


Day 3: Smoke

by SaiTheWriter



Series: Turkstober2020 [3]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Broken Bones, Fire, Gen, Is he ever happy?, Smart Reno (Compilation of FFVII), Tseng is not gonna be happy, smoke inhalation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26962417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaiTheWriter/pseuds/SaiTheWriter
Summary: Why the fuck do milk runs always seem to go wrong?
Series: Turkstober2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957075
Kudos: 27
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 3: Smoke

His lungs burned for air, but the redhead pressed onwards, ducking a low beam still yet to be licked up by the blaze that surrounded him. He had to move faster, there was far too much ground to cover. Where the fuck had Tseng said he was in his last report? The main foyer, but that was behind him. Something about a library being where the meeting would be? Just a typical milk run so far past fucked up it was almost laughable. He was meant to pick the man up, not search through a fiery plume of a mansion in the hills. Ducking low for a moment, Reno sucked in what air he could, coughing slightly when the smoke thickened oxygen burned into his lungs.

__

_ “Tseng!” _

The cry expended most of what he’d just earned, but it sounded out so feebly in the flames around him. Pushing past a fallen hall table, the Turk turned in a circle, trying to assess the area with just a few moments before turning left. Their intel had turned, looked like. Either promised money or a get outta hell free card, but that would be something to ponder about later. Rigging his own house to explode. That was fucked up. Approaching the half collapsed doorway into what appeared to be a blazing library, Reno bit off a curse and rushed forward, ducking somewhat smoothly undercharred crown moulding falling from sagging ceilings. “Tseng!” There, under the debris and trapped half under a bookcase, his director lay, motionless in a heap, only spotted by the pale skin half-buried beneath books.. Tilting him to the side showcased the mild trickle of blood near his temple, still dripping sluggishly from his unmoving face. Tilting in, his expression dropped into relief at the soft sound of breathing, even if it was ragged.

“Fuckin’ great time for a nap, boss.” The Turk teased, mostly to calm his own ass down from the worry laced in him upon the sight of the burning building.

Quick eyes scanned the area, searching for anything to help lever away the sturdy wood shelving pinning Tseng’s legs and hips down. If a god was listening, he was damn sure to send up a prayer of thanks for the sight of the thickly embellished fireplace kit to the side. Snagging up the heavy metal poker, Reno hunched until he was right up under the thing, grunting with exertion as he stood and tried to get his shoulder under the emptied furniture. Thank fuck it wasn’t full of books, else he might not even get up under it at all. 

Every second was one he didn’t have, judging by the crackling sounds around them, and still it was taking far too long to lift the damn thing up. But lift it did, the solid hardwood rising enough for him to inch further in and prop the thing up on the solid metal poker. Job done, he shuffled back, taking with him his boss with several grunting tugs to pull him free of the fallen tomes.

A hacking cough rewarded his effort to stand with Tseng’s weight draped over him, the searing to his lungs almost dizzying. They needed to make an exit, fast. Moving with someone else’s dead weight was not exactly easy, but the rapidly caving area around them settled him with a burst of haste. Fuck what he wouldn’t give to use Haste in here to get him going. But that was a lesson he’d learned long ago in a similar event. Sure, he’d kicked ass and made it out, but the speed also upped his air intake. And smoke intake. He’d collapsed and been out for two damn days on oxygen while they treated him.

Shuffling forward, the redhead winced as a gutter of flame rose up from a recently collapsed ceiling beam, squinting through the heat and smoke for a way to the exit. Skirting the great hall of the entryway to get around the smoldering chandelier, Reno idly wondered when that shit had come down. The front had looked so near pristine when he’d first skittered in the front door. No, all of the damage was largely around the library he’d found Tseng in and the surrounding rooms. Their informant had laid his trap well, trying to keep the target in the epicenter while he escaped himself. Reno couldn’t wait to get Tseng to tell them all about the story.

Because he  _ would  _ be getting the man out of there in time.

A creak was all the warning he had before another beam fell onto the stairs to his right, sending up a giant cloud of smoldering hardwood and debris. White hot pain caused him to yelp and stutter his feet when the ashy and still coal debris spattered across him, searing places like his ear and burning right through his suit along his chest.  _ Fuck fuck fuck _ . He coughed at the smoke and upped his speed, wobbling when the floor splintered below him.

It was only moments that ended up feeling like hours before he made it through the front door and out into fresh air, gasping up a deep lungful and coughing out the seared sensation while limp dragging his boss down to the grass a safe distance away.

Rolling him onto his side, Reno dropped beside him, slapping at his cheek gently to see if he’d come around. A moment and there showed no sign, his brows climbing high as the fading wreckage sounds now far enough showed a lack of anything from Tseng himself. Shit. He wasn’t breathing. A cup of his hand beside him to make sure and the man was shoved on his back, his hands finding their position to start compressions.

In an instant his focus was back, shoving aside the surprise and panic. The chopper was far enough away that he couldn’t be sure he had time to run there with a potion or any form of first aid. No, his first breath dropped down that propped open airway, dropping back to jolt those compressions down. Two breaths in and he was already dizzy himself from giving away much needed air and exerting himself to such a degree, but not once did it pass his mind to quit. He’d smacked an alert immediately upon landing when the explosion rocked through the lawn, he’d trust backup to come shortly.

Sweat stung his eyes while he worked, rolling down to drop from his nose and plap on the motionless form below. With a chilling crack, Reno shuddered, already knowing he’d broken a rib with the intensity of his hits. Another shaky breath had his vision swimming, before the rattling sound of a cough sounded below his lips, Tseng’s eyes snapping wide yet unseeing while he wheezed in a shuddering breath.

“Hold still.” Reno panted, the sound of his voice shaky and rough. “Gotta…a fire. Yer ribs.” Fuck, there was too much to say, and nothing all at once. Tseng needed to stay down, still. Reno himself wanted nothing more than to lay right there beside him and just fucking breathe.

“Don’ move, yo.” Another wheeze, ending in a painful sounding cough made him wince in sympathy. “Help’s coming.” Reno added, watching focus return to those squinting eyes. He couldn’t glean much from the look, and he doubted Tseng was truly coherent. But he was breathing on his own.

Over the sound of the house burning, there came the roar of an engine. Far down from the gates beyond the copter on the sprawling lawn, he noted something breaking through the gate. Ah, cavalry. Sagging back down into the plush lawn, his head tipped towards his boss, nudging a hand out to grip along his arm. As addled as he was, it was no surprise to Reno that there was a weak twitch in response, a weak attempt to return the grip.

“Fires ain’t shit.” He complained to the sky as the sound raced up the hill. “Who the hell’s gonna get impressed if there ain’t no scar?”


End file.
